


the lengths we go to

by deviltriggerhappy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: gladnis is there if you close one eye and turn your head but it isn't the focus of the story, my replay of ffxv and my annual rewatch of dexter coincided to create this mess, serial killer! ignis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviltriggerhappy/pseuds/deviltriggerhappy
Summary: When a tabloid writer threatens Noctis with blackmail, Ignis and Gladiolus take the matter into their own hands.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	the lengths we go to

He understood perfectly well that to open another person’s mail was a criminal offense. But had the envelope at least bore the receiving address, Ignis would have ignored it and simply placed it with the rest of the prince’s online purchases. However, a plain manilla envelope with no indication of where it had come from nor where it was headed, sent to one of the most important people in Insomnia? That was _beyond_ suspicious. So as he removed his shoes by the door, Ignis tucked it neatly into his armpit, underneath his blazer, and entered the living area of the apartment. 

As usual, it was messy, but most of the dishes had been cleaned and put away, there was no laundry to be seen, and there was a significant lack of garbage and empty food containers on the floor and table. Ignis knew of only one reason Noctis would put so much effort into cleaning his apartment when he could rely on someone else to do it. As he suspected, he found the prince and his friend on the couch, junk food and soda cans spread on the coffee table in front of them, controllers in hand. Gladiolus sat on the recliner, feet propped on the edge and a book in his lap. He looked up as Ignis entered the room, offering a smile. 

“What up, Specs.” Noctis greeted him without taking his eyes off the screen. Prompto, messy blond hair kept out of his face by an elastic hairband, at least offered him a glance and a small, shy smile.

“Hi, Ignis.”

“Hello, Prompto.”

Ignis returned the smile, easy and friendly. Prompto’s cheeks dimpled as his smile widened, but that was cut short as Noctis’s character decimated Prompto’s rather brutally, reciting an overacted victory line. Prompto’s smile instead turned to a wail of despair. Gladiolus laughed at him. Ignis left them to their distraction, placing his grocery bags on the counter by the stovetop and placing Noctis’s mail in its usual spot by the sink. He looked up at them once again; they’d just begun a new match, with new characters, and were wholly absorbed. Even Gladiolus had abandoned his book, closing it over his thumb as he watched the screen intensely. Ignis took the envelope from his jacket and cut the string to open it.

The first thing he pulled out was a single sheet of printing paper. A short note had been typed onto it, some plain font that Ignis was sure had to be the default of whatever program the sender had used.

_Dearest Prince._

  
Ignis’s upper lip curled in disgust.

_I hope this letter finds you well. I should hate to bring you down when your mood is already so low. You’ll find enclosed photographs of a personal nature. You should know what I want in exchange for their destruction. Meet me at Cafe le Blanc in three days._

_NV._

Noctis yelped, startling Ignis; he dropped the letter and envelope, eyes shooting upward in a panic. Noctis, it seemed, had lost the first round against Prompto. He’d risen to his knees as if it was going to help him play any better. Gladiolus was laughing.

“And that’s what happens when you skip training.”

“Shut up!”

Gladiolus turned to Ignis as if to say something; his jovial expression turned to one of concern. Ignis quickly ducked out of sight, scooping up the contents of the envelope. He was trying to slow his breathing, regain his calm mannered facade, when a flash of color caught his eye and he stopped. The photographs had fallen from the envelope when he’d dropped it. He turned them over so that all were facing him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, even as he flipped through them over and over.

Five, in total. They’d been taken at night, and though Noctis had been wearing one of his many disguises, it had proven to be not enough. It also didn’t help that he’d removed his ball cap and glasses in order to smash his face against Prompto’s in a messy kiss. The camera had even caught a flash of tongue between them. One, however, proved itself to be the most damning.

A prince was never to bend his knee to anyone. Unless, it seemed, that anyone happened to be Prompto, feeding his cock into said prince’s mouth.

A hand shot over his shoulder, quick as a voretooth, and snatched the photograph from his hand. Ignis cursed silently as he looked back and up. Gladiolus stood above him, staring at the picture. Rage burned in his eyes. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, and he shot daggers at the prince’s back. Any rage Ignis had felt instead melted away to panic. He stood quickly, grabbing Gladiolus’s arm and dragging him toward the door. Gladiolus allowed himself to be led to the hallway, shaking even as Ignis shut the door to give them privacy.

“We have to get on top of this. Right now.” Gladiolus had pulled his cell phone from his pocket, thumbing the screen. 

“Gla-”

“I’m calling the Marshall.”

Ignis snatched the phone from his hand. Gladiolus’s glare darkened. “Just...let me think for a minute.”

“ _Think_?” he snarled, and Ignis looked back at the door, praying the boys couldn’t hear them. “You know the protocol for this. Prompto needs to leave, right now. We have to call the Glaives, isolate Noct, find whoever the fuck took these photos-”

“And then Noctis can never leave the castle, or see Prompto, ever again.”

Gladiolus shook the photograph in his face. “And _how_ is that a bad idea?”

Ignis shut his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose, pinching the bridge between two fingers. His other hand rested on his hip in a tight fist. He could feel the tension in his body building. After a long moment, he opened his eyes and looked up at Gladiolus. 

“There is another way.”

Gladiolus did not stop glaring, but his expression tightened, turning more wary than angry. “You sure you want him?”

“Dealing with this as quickly and quietly as possible is our best option, I think.” Not to mention at the mere thought, his palms began to itch, fingers twitching as if to calm it somehow. It had been so long since he’d been able to handle a problem like this, he was already running the scenario through his head. “Neither Noct, nor His Majesty, need to ever know he was a concern.”

“You think he wouldn’t expect the Crownsguard to make him disappear?”

“I think he expects Noctis to be desperate.” Ignis ground his teeth. “I think he expects to take advantage of a teenager that just wants to enjoy his last few years of adolescence. Besides, we’re not Crownsguard. Not yet. You’re not even his shield, officially speaking.”

Gladiolus crossed his arms. “And what if you get caught? What if he brings friends to make sure nothing happens?”

  
“I’ve never been caught, Gladio, and I don’t plan on doing so now.” Ignis snatched the photograph back, folding it in half and sliding it into his breast pocket.

They stared at each other a few moments longer. Gladiolus was still grappling with himself, Ignis could see. He knew compliance meant going against every rule and law Gladiolus had had hammered into his head since birth. It wouldn’t be an easy decision.

But decide he did. “Fine,” Gladiolus conceded at least, dropping his arms to his sides. “But I’m going with you.”

Ignis sighed heavily. “Gladio--”

“Don’t fucking argue with me. Not on this.”

Ignis met his gaze, still dark and stormy. He hoped he could stare him down into submission, maybe. But he should have known it would be fruitless. He was dealing with an Amicitia, after all, infamous among the court for their stubbornness. He wasn’t budging.

“I have a... _method_ for what I do. You do _exactly_ what I tell you, without question and without hesitation. If you deviate, you _will_ get us caught.”

“Fine,” he said again. His rage had cooled at his resignation. Ignis wasn’t sure if he was envious or annoyed by it. Wordlessly, he opened the door to the apartment, eyes never leaving the man in front of him. “Noct, we’ve just received a call from the Marshall.”

He heard the game’s music mute. “Shit. Everything okay?” Noctis called back.

“Everything’s fine. He just wants us to sit in on a meeting. You and Prompto will have to fend for yourselves for the night.”

“And put up that food!” Gladiolus added. “Iggy spent good money on it.”

Six above, Ignis had forgotten completely about the groceries.

“Yes, sir.” Prompto called back, without a single hint of sarcasm. Gladiolus actually chuckled. He could hear the muffled voice of a very exasperated Noctis telling Prompto that he didn’t have to call Gladiolus “sir,” they were practically the same age.

“Please eat something green!” Ignis called. The door shut just after a melodramatic groan from the prince. 

They rode the elevator in silence, stepping into the cool midsummer night. Gladiolus didn’t seem bothered by the chill, though Ignis wondered if it was the true source of the gooseflesh across his arms and shoulder.

“The fucking looks on their faces, Igs. How hell did we miss _that_?”

  
  
  


********

  
  


Ignis had figured out years ago that it didn’t take much for him to blend into the crowded streets of the common folk. A casual outfit and a messy hairstyle was all he needed to look like any other civilian. He often ditched his glasses and accent, just in case. It had always proven foolproof, and today was no exception. He sat four tables away from his target, directly in front of him, and the man hadn’t even spared him a glance. Either that, or his target was an exceptional actor.

Nicolai Vertich had been a thorn in the sides of every blueblood in Lucis, writing trash article after trash article defaming and exposing nobles for almost ten years; he was infamous for being capable of getting his hands on even the most secure, secret information, then gil-gouging those he blackmailed. Paid or not, he then turned around and published his articles anyway. He’d written a scathing piece on Ignis himself just a couple years prior. He’d somehow gotten wind of Ignis’ non-noble origins and had accused King Regis of slave trafficking. A quick word from Ignis’s uncle back in Tenebrae had solved the public relations issues, but the Caelums and their associated families never held any love for the man afterward. He could imagine Gladiolus seething from his vantage point at the mere sight of the man.

His laptop pinged. Ignis opened the IM, not surprised to hear from his lookout.

**Gladio** : NV

  
**Gladio** : Nicolai Vertich.

**Gladio** : Of fucking course.

**Me** : I can’t say I’m surprised.

**Gladio** : I don’t like you being out there alone with that creep.

**Me** : He’d recognize you in an instant. Stick to the plan.

Ignis sipped his tea, an iced fig and peppercorn blend. He wouldn’t show it, but Gladiolus was making him nervous. The man wasn’t stupid, but his temper was short and it made him irrational and careless sometimes. Ignis was starting to regret bringing him along; doing this alone had never been as nerve-wracking as this was proving to be. Gladiolus might prove himself too unpredictable. Unpredictability would get him caught.

But Gladiolus did as he was told. Nicolai hadn’t listed a specific time in his letter, no doubt expecting Noctis--or even the Crownsguard--to react with some urgency. Ignis was delighted to have disappointed him. One hour turned to two, to four, to six. As each ticked by, he watched the man go from cock and confident, to wary, to confused, to paranoid, to finally angry and annoyed. By the evening, the sun turning the sky violet and orange, Ignis had left, daring to walk directly past Nicolai, to take his place in the car with Gladiolus. They watched their prey from across the street, waiting for him to leave.

Nicolai was patient, Ignis had to give him that. But not nearly as patient as Ignis was. Finally, as the sun faded and the streetlights began to turn on, he finally stood from his table and left, leaving discarded straw and sugar wrappers scattered across his table. Ignis couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised by this behavior. HIs face was twisted in a macabre mix of anger and determination.

Ignis pulled a small tin, silver and square, from his glove compartment. From within he pulled out a syringe, already filled and the needle capped. He slipped it into the sleeve of his jacket and opened his door. “Stay here. I’m going to follow him until we’re alone. Once I sedate him, I’ll call you. We have to move quickly.”

“Iggy.” Gladiolus’s hand shot out, grabbing him tightly by the wrist. Ignis looked over his shoulder; Nicolai was nearly a block away. “Be careful. Please.”

Ignis couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his lips. “I always am.”

Gladiolus let go of him, and Ignis stepped into the night. He had to move quickly to close the distance between them, at the same time trying to maintain enough that he wouldn’t realize he was being followed. As they walked, the crowd thinned, the streetlamps became more and more sparse and broken, until it could only be obvious that Ignis was following him. Nicolai didn’t turn to look over his shoulder, to stare, nor did he start to run. But Ignis could see the tightness in his shoulders. He knew. Ignis pulled the cap from his syringe as Nicolai suddenly,but not unexpectedly, ducked into an alleyway. Ignis laughed.

As if he wouldn’t expect an ambush.

He had to give the man credit for locating a weapon first; however, he was untrained and would need so much more than a broken beer bottle to get the better of a trained (unofficial) Crownsguard. Ignis easily sidestepped his attack, grabbing his wrist and twisting it to disarm him. It was almost too easy. He drew the sleeve back enough to plunge the needle into Vertich’s arm and dose him. The man attempted to scream and pull away. Ignis allowed him, letting him slam backward into a heavy dumpster. He hit his own head, his scream cutting off in surprise, before Ignis launched forward and pressed his forearm into the man’s throat. In the silver moonlight, Ignis could see his face flush immediately. He tried to scream, Shiva bless him, but nothing came out. Ignis pressed only slightly harder; it wouldn’t be any fun to just choke and leave him.

Whether it was the drug or the oxygen deprivation, it took only a few minutes longer before Nicolai’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed forward. Ignis caught him and eased him to the ground. He checked his pulse; steady, slow. Confirming their target still lived, Ignis pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called his ride.

  
  


****

Ignis had found an abandoned potions brewing factory on the southern edge of the wall; built almost fifty years ago, an accident had caused an explosion that killed the employees, an inspector, and dozens of civilians in the surrounding area. Production had been shut down indefinitely. After a teenager had died doing something stupid while inebriated, it had been gated off and closed to the public ten years later. 

Of course, a fence and a few chains wouldn’t be enough to stop Ignis.

He always felt a sort of ease settle over him as he set his stage. Usually, he was alone, taping up tarps and covering the room in a thin, neat layer of plastic film. Gladiolus had offered his help, but Ignis insisted he do this alone. So he stood next to the unconscious form of Vertich, watching him for any sign of consciousness. When his eyes weren’t on the prey, however, they were on Ignis as he cut the plastic sheeting and taped them smoothly over overhanging pipes and steel columns, as he set up his tools in a neat row on a nearby table he’d provided himself. He had a sheet tied above the table, the photographs of Noctis and Prompto taped in clockwork fashion; the most damning photograph was in the middle of the others. Each second, he could feel the other man’s gaze on him. His ritual was sacred, and having someone watch felt exhibitionist, perverted. He was too keenly aware of every movement he made, every breath he took. Looking at Gladiolus when he was finished took more effort than he wanted to admit.

“Bring him,” he ordered.

Gladiolus, having been gifted a pair of thick hunting gloves, picked Vertich up by the armpits and half-dragged him to the table. Ignis grabbed his feet, and both effortlessly placed him on the table. The plastic beneath him creaked. Ignis grabbed Gladiolus’s wrist. The other man flinched, but he gave no acknowledgement to it.

“You can leave, if you wish.”

Gladiolus’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise, eyes wide. His mouth opened and closed like a beached fish. Then his eyes darted to the door, just over Ignis’s shoulder. Ignis wouldn’t have blamed him. It was one thing to know your friend killed people as a hobby. It was an entirely different monster to partake yourself.

But Gladiolus seemed to have found some steel in himself, and after a deep breath, his gaze met Ignis’s again. His expression was guarded, but determined. 

“Need me to help with anything?”

Ignis only shook his head, and grabbed the first tool from his lineup: a pair of fabric scissors. He asked Gladiolus to back away from the table and, once he had, began to remove Nicolai’s clothing. The pieces fell away, discarded in a neat pile under the table. Once they were removed, Ignis took a bucket and a rag, prepared almost as soon as they’d arrived, and began to wipe down Nicolai’s body. It was a harsh mixture of chemicals, diluted somewhat with water, but never too much. It would irritate his skin, for certain. Maybe cause it to crack and bleed, like some more sensitive types. Ignis was more concerned about removing any trace of his own DNA before the man’s comfort. Gladiolus winced, even turned away. Ignis wondered if he should feel some shame at any of this. He _had_ given Gladiolus an out, though. 

Once that work was done, rearranging and restraining him was all too easy. Duct tape really was a catch-all effective tool. His legs were pressed together, red and shiny, and his arms were straight at his sides. He started at the ankles, moved to the calves, the knees, the hips, all the way up until he had even taped the man down by his forehead. Ignis chanced a look upward again. Gladiolus’s eyes were on his hands, resting on Nicolai’s forehead. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

“I…” His mouth hung open, though he didn’t speak. Then he shook his head, slowly. His eyes never moved away. “Is it fucked up that I’m impressed?”

Ignis shrugged. “I suppose.” He cut one last piece of tape and placed the roll back into line.

“I mean, I shouldn’t condone this. But this is incredible. You’ve thought of everything.”

Ignis actually preened under the praise. Of course he knew his work was good. He’d been doing this for years, never getting caught, never even being suspected. But having his hard work validated by someone else? Who wouldn’t feel proud? 

Ignis smoothed the tape over Nicolai’s mouth, smiling. He retrieved his apron from under the table and tied it tightly around his waist. The main event was coming up quickly, and he needed to be prepared for it. Ignis felt tense again, wondering if he should demand Gladiolus leave, all compliments aside. He was going to witness a very different side of Ignis, very soon. Ignis wondered how he’d take it.

“Last chance, Gladio. Before we can never go back.”

“I’m in this now, Iggy. Might as well make sure the job gets done.”

It was so easy for him to say, having never taken a life before. But if he insisted, who was Ignis to stop him? 

Nicolai awoke later than Ignis had expected; for a moment, the man had made him worry. He was just beginning to contemplate the dosage on his tranquilizer. He’d been pacing back and forth, occasionally stopping to check his tools; he’d even considered rearranging the photographs more than once. Gladiolus, banned from turning on his cell phone and not expecting to need a book, kept his eyes on Ignis. Finally, ages later, he heard the telltale groan of a man waking from a forced sleep with a massive headache. Ignis turned on his heel to face his guest.

Nicolai blinked rapidly, disoriented by the light above him. Ignis could see the exact moment he realized the position he was in: his eyes widened, and he attempted to sit up. The tape held him firmly in place, of course, his effort broadcasted only by the quick tensing of muscles in his neck and shoulders; he also made several valiant attempts to scream. He began to thrash against his bindings, wrenching his jaw back and forth to pry the tape from his lips. Ignis remained silent, waiting for him to figure it out. Judging by how he was rocking himself, however, he hazarded a guess that he would need a little help.

“I’m over here, darling.”

Ignis would ignore that Gladiolus _and_ Nicolai looked over at him. As soon as the writer’s eyes settled on him, his brow furrowed into one of the darkest glares Ignis has ever seen; may have even given Gladiolus a run for his money.He felt a grin spread across his face.

“Now that’s a _fantastic_ look.” Ignis knelt by the table so that he and Nicolai were eye to eye. NIcolai whimpered. “Listen to me carefully, Nicolai. I’m going to take the tape off of your mouth now.” He reached up and peeled back just a corner. Nicolai whimpered in response. “You can scream. You can cry. You can pick an Astral and pray. Doesn’t matter what you do, _no one will here you_.” The man visibly gulped. “So long as you understand.”

  
As soon as the tape was ripped away, Nicolai didn’t so much scream as shriek. Ignis shrugged, expecting as much; he only wished he’d thought to bring ear plugs as Nicolai’s increasingly desperate screaming grew shriller and louder. Gladiolus was wincing, his face turned away and a hand clapped over his exposed ear. Nicolai, in his feeble thrashing, spotted Gladiolus. Ignis saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. 

“Hey! Help me! He’s fucking crazy, _please_!”

For a moment Gladiolus looked torn, staring at Nicolai with wide eyes. Ignis’s blood turned to ice; would he, after all this? Gladiolus’s sense of justice wasn’t skewed like his, and he still had an out. He didn’t have Ignis’s itch for blood, for the easier solution to a problem like this. He was only here because Noctis had been threatened directly. Gods, had Ignis only been more careful with those damned photos, he wouldn’t--

Gladiolus closed his eyes and hung his head, slowly shaking it from side to side.

Nicolai’s screaming continued to echo against the walls for another long while. He called the two of them the usual gambit of insults. _Bastards_ . Unoriginal. _Motherfuckers_ . Heard it before. _Cocksuckers_. Technically true, but nothing new. Ignis rolled his eyes at each of them. Gladiolus looked strained, almost sick. His eyes were clenched shut, the palms of his hands pressed tightly against them. Ignis felt a tug in his chest. Pity, but not quite there. 

“I keep telling you to leave,” he said, ignoring Nicolai for the moment. “You clearly don’t want to be here.”

“You’re not doing this alone anymore.” Despite his appearance, Gladiolus’s voice was firm. “Just...I don’t know. Fucking get it over with.”

Ignis wished he could, if only for Gladiolus’s sake. But this wasn't for Gladiolus’s sake. Skipping steps was sloppy, even ones as simply as letting his victim scream until they either could not or would not. He simply shook his head and turned back to the table. Nicolai had traded shrieking for wailing.

  
“ _Why_? Why are you doing this?” he sobbed.

Ignis raised a single eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well now, Mister Vertich. You’re an intelligent man. Surely you can figure out why you’re here.” And he stepped away, circling Nicolai like a hungry voretooth. As he moved, he exposed the collage he’d set up behind him. Nicolai’s eyes widened impossibly further when he realized what they were.

“Fuck you!” Foamy spittle dripped from the corners of his mouth. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you!” Ignis felt his pulse quicken, and his grin widened.

“That’s all you have to say? For a writer, Mister Vertich,” he sneered, placing both hands on the table by his head and leaning over him, “you’re rather uninspired.” He raised his hands before slamming them down flat, suddenly and with great force. They hit the table with a loud crack. Nicolai yelped. “You threatened the prince, Mister Vertich. Placed the blackmail in a neat little envelope and left it on his doorstep. And given your track record, I can’t be satisfied with a promise you’ll let the matter be.”

“You’re his fucking lapdog.” It was as if a light had suddenly been switched on in his head. “I won’t tell anyone!”

  
“Oh, won’t you?” Ignis moved away, retrieving his knife.

“I won’t! I swear! I’ll delete everything. The photos, the story, everything!”

Gladiolus huffed out a laugh, loud and humorous. Ignis started; he’d completely forgotten about his audience in the corner. Nicolai’s eyes darted to where he stood. “Were’t you listening, buddy? We don’t trust you. Last I checked, you ruin people whether or not you get your money.”

“And what a lovely addition this little story would make.” Ignis ran the pad of his thumb against the blade, testing its sharpness against his fingerprint. The feel of cold steel scraping against his skin sent pleasurable little shivers up his spine. “To accuse the crown of attempting to snuff you out quietly, and failing.”

“Isn’t that what this is?” Nicolai had the gall to sound vindicated. “His Highness would rather kill me than have everyone know he’s fucking a Nif?”

Ignis laughed. It was a full belly laugh, nearly bringing him to tears. He hadn’t expected it, and neither had Nicolai or Gladio. Both stared at him incredulously.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to laugh.” Ignis blinked away the tears. “Just, you know. The thought of you even _being_ on Noctis’s radar.” He rolled his eyes, made a show of it. “He’s preparing to run an entire country one day, and you think he has the time or energy to worry about someone who writes for some _gossiping shitrag_.”

“But you do?”

Ignis stood above Nicolai, holding the handle of the knife in two fingers, raising it until the pointed tip dangled just over Nicolai’s eye. He whimpered again. 

“That’s my job. I worry about the gossiping shitrags so he doesn’t have to.” He pulled the knife away, his free hand coming up to grab Nicolai’s jaw in a vice-like grip. He delighted in the frightened little squeak he heard. He turned his head against the duct tape, so that Nicolai was a few hairs short, but his eyes trained on the photographs. “So few things make Noct happy these days. You would destroy him with this. Does that mean nothing, even to you?”

He knew it didn’t, of course. People like Nicolai didn’t care about the subjects of their stories; they wouldn’t make it in their industry if they did. But humanizing himself to his victim, projecting the image of the piteous killer, would raise his hopes. Sadistic, certainly, but it was important Nicolai see this side of him.

“I--I can find something else. I forget about this, all of it, just please, _please_!” Nicolai was a fantastic begger. 

Ignis turned his face upward again, a practiced frown on his face. “What else do you have, Nic? What other story do you have that could be half as sensational?”

Nicolai’s eyes darted about as he wracked his brain, trying in vain to find anything that would appease his captor. Ignis released him, returning to his position above the man’s head. He took the hilt of the knife in both hands. Nicolai looked up at him, eyes wet and wide as he realized he was well and truly fucked. He turned to Gladiolus, screaming again for help. Ignis spared a glance his way.

The expression on his face was unreadable. His eyes were trained on the blade of the knife, wide but focused. His jaw was clenched tight enough for a vein in his neck to protrude against his skin. The dim lighting washed the two of them out already, but Ignis was sure he was paler than usual. Maybe he was horrified by this. Maybe he believed Nicolai was getting exactly what he deserved. He looked away from the knife, only to meet Ignis’s eyes. Ignis was unsure of his own expression at that moment. 

But Gladiolus only nodded, once.

Ignis plunged the knife downward, feeling the blade slip through skin and muscle, between ribs thrusting deep into his heart. Nicolai seized, blood foaming red and pink between his lips. His breath was shallow and shuddering before he let out one last sigh and stopped moving. As Ignis pulled the knife from his body, blood pooled on the table beneath him, dripping to the floor. 

The cleanup was never as much fun as the act itself. Once again, Ignis insisted on doing it alone. Gladiolus stood on the sidelines, remaining silent as Ignis took down the plastic sheeting, folding the damning photographs within its confines, and piling them on top of the body. The tattered remains of his clothing joined them, and then Ignis, with a snap of his fingers, set the evidence on fire.

Gladiolus turned and walked out the door. Ignis watched his back, until Gladiolus closed the factory door behind himself, the slam echoing throughout the chamber. Ignis’s heart hammered in his chest. _He’s gone, he’s called the Marshall. I’m done for_. Ignis closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It would be his choice if he did so. He had done the one thing his uncle had warned him against, and he’d brought someone in. If Gladiolus turned on him, he could only blame himself for it. 

Once the body was ash, Ignis swept it into an open drain in the middle of the floor; no doubt the grating had been blown open during the initial explosion, it had proved itself to be an excellent hold for his victims. Ignis wasn’t sure how deep the drain ran, or where to, but it had yet to stop accepting Ignis’s offerings. Once he was satisfied the evidence was gone, Ignis stepped out into the night.

  
A few feet away from the side entrance, Gladiolus was pacing back and forth by the car, hands wringing together in front of him. He looked up at the sound of Ignis’s approach. He looked lost. Maybe conflicted. Confused. In the dim lighting of the moon and the harsh shadows, it was hard to tell.

“So…” he began, then stopped. He ran his hands through his hair, turned away for three more steps, then turned back. “What the fuck, Iggy.” It wasn’t a question. “That really fucking happened.” 

His energy was like a wild animal’s, nervous and biting. Ignis maintained his distance, and a calm voice, as he replied. “Yes. It did.”

“You’ve done this before. No way you haven’t. That was too fucking perfect.”

“I have.”

“And you’ve been doing this _by yourself_.” 

Ignis was surprised by the pity in his voice. It wasn’t for his victims, wasn’t for those who had fallen to his knife; it was for _him_. It was a far cry from how he’d reacted when he’d first discovered Ignis’s hobby. The way his voice cracked almost brought tears to his eyes. 

“ _Six_ , Igs. I don’t know what to think. What to do.” Gladiolus sighed, pressing his palms back to his eyes. “What do you normally do after…” He let his sentence trail off, simply gesturing back to the factory with a nod. Ignis dared to take a step closer. When Gladiolus didn’t move, he took another. 

“Go home. Have a drink. Go to sleep. Pretend it never happened come morning.”

Gladiolus sighed heavily.

“I wouldn’t mind some company, however,” he added hastily. 

Gladiolus nodded, then wordlessly opened the driver side door, indicating with a wave of his hand that Ignis should sit. He did so, waiting until Gladiolus seated himself next to him and snapped his seatbelt in place. The drive back into town was mostly silent until they reached the bustling heart of Insomnia. The streets were packed with late night traffic, waves of people flooding the sidewalks and bars that stretched along the side of the road.

  
“Funny,” Gladiolus mused aloud, “the lengths we go to for some people.”

Ignis only nodded, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

**Author's Note:**

> i generally write romance and smut, so writing this was a step out of my comfort zone i was happy to take. even if this fandom is close to death (or is it, i'm not generally involved in fandoms these days). but i'm happy i did, this was an adventure to be sure.


End file.
